


Enjambment

by allyndra



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyndra/pseuds/allyndra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meeting across a ballroom isn't a cliche yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjambment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bravofiftyone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravofiftyone/gifts).



He was very young, Eve thought, this Adam. Across the room, he tipped his head to better hear the musicians, ignoring for the moment the swirl of chattering, stinking, living humanity around him. He’d been turned a bare hundred years ago, and it showed to a close observer. She saw the impetuousness of his gestures, the way he forgot himself and moved too quick when a less skilled dancer stepped his way. Adam caught himself in a moment and gave the clumsy dancer a civil smile as the man apologetically doffed his cap. But Eve had noticed his slip. 

She had also seen the way he found himself inescapably caught up in the events of the day, the anger that flushed through him when he argued politics. She couldn’t blame him, especially when she cast her mind back to herself at that age. Eve had still been leading her tribe and resisting the creeping predations of the Romans. She shook her head at her own foolishness. She’s been so self-centered, so shortsighted. So young. 

Eve let her eye catch on Adam again. He was a handsome man, with a fine brow and well-made calves. But it was the quicksilver wit that lit the curve of his smile and tripped along his words that drew her in. Words had always been her weakness. 

Eve stepped along the edge of the crowd, enjoying the space around her that her skirts demanded. When she reached Adam, he drew his eyes from the lutists with a palpable effort. He tipped her an elegant bow. 

“Milady,” he said with a grin. 

Eve inclined her head. “Mister … Drake, is it?” She’d been amused, when she’d heard he was styling himself after the celebrated explorer.

His grin broadened, and Eve found herself returning it. “I am a very great advocate of discovery,” he said, with an air of admission.

“Are not we all?” Eve replied. “I am called Lady DuFay.”

“I am gratified to meet you, milady,” Adam said. “At long last.” 

So he had been watching her, as well.

“I have a friend,” she said slowly, “who can occasionally be prevailed upon to provide refreshments for myself and my companions. Would you care to escort me to his establishment this evening?”

Adam raised his eyebrows. She had been watching him long enough that she knew he wasn’t one of those short-lived of their kind who often gave into the twin urges for violence and gluttony. He knew the value of a discreet purveyor of refreshment. 

“I would be honored, milady.” He offered her his arm, and she tucked her gloved hand around it. His arm was firm beneath his doublet, and he allowed her to guide him out of the ballroom and down to the pavement without question. She was pleased. So many men of this age quibbled when a woman took any kind of lead, regardless of the fact that they swore to a queen each day.

Eve directed their steps to a prosperous inn near the river. They were met at the door by the publican, who directed them to a quiet drawing room with a small fire in the grate. There were two wooden chairs next to a low couch, and Eve sank onto one of them, arranging her skirts around herself. She drew a small purse from within the folds of fabric and offered it to the man. “Agnes will be here in a moment,” he told them, taking the purse and weighing it subtly in his hand. 

“Thank you, Thomas,” Eve told him. Adam stood only for a moment longer before he took the other chair. Eve took in his upright posture and gave him a smile. “It’s quite safe, sir. My friend Mister Marlowe introduced me to this establishment when Thomas’s father was the master here. The family is extremely loyal and discreet.”

“I have faith in anyone you would vouchsafe,” Adam said. Anything more he might have added was interrupted by the arrival of Agnes. She was a plump girl of about 14 with the red cheeks of good health. She bobbed a curtsy and then stood expectantly before them. 

“If you please,” she said, shoving her sleeves up to bear her arms. Small white scars decorated both arms near the delicate flesh of the inner elbow, but all were well healed. Eve smiled in satisfaction. Kit always led Eve to the best sources. Eve nodded the girl to recline on the couch and reached into her belt pouch for the small cup she kept there. 

“May I have the use of your knife, Mister Drake?” Eve asked, shifting her chair closer to the couch and running one gloved finger along the girl’s bare left arm. She had one of her own, of course, but men carried their knives more openly. 

“You may have the use of anything of mine,” Adam said. Eve glanced at him sharply. There was something earnest in his eyes that made her think it was more than simple gallantry. She accepted the knife from him, nodding in approval of its fine, sharp edge. 

Slipping her cup under Agnes’s arm, she nicked a small, deep cut. The blood welled up immediately, and Eve’s breath caught. Her eyes were drawn to each lush, red drop as it spilled into her cup. She was so captivated that she almost failed to draw her cup away when it was full. A gently hand at her wrist brought her back to herself. Adam was leaning close, his own eyes as dark and intent as Eve guessed her own to be. He held a small, silver goblet out to her. With a sharp breath, Eve handed him her fill cup and took his empty one. As it filled with blood, she managed to pull her attention from the rich fluid and to the goblet. 

Eve laughed, startled. “Truly, sir?” she asked. He grinned at her. That bright mirth and mischief that she had glimpsed from afar were only more beautiful up close. The cup in her hand was a simple, footed silver goblet, quite small and only lightly decorated. It was a communion goblet, like the ones used in Church of England services all over the land. 

“What could be more appropriate?” he asked. Eve laughed again. 

Adam’s cup was now just as full as hers. She tied a handkerchief around the cut on Agnes’s arm and gave the girl a companionable pat on the shoulder. “Thank you, Agnes,” she said. She handed the girl a penny for herself and shifted her chair back enough for the girl to rise. With another curtsey and a look of resigned incomprehension, Agnes left them. 

Eve stood. “Will you join me?” she asked. She seated herself on the couch, where Agnes had so recently lay. The scent of blood was thick in the air, and eve could feel her fangs descending. Adam sat next to her and proffered her cup. With a little grin, Eve lifted his communion goblet to her lips instead. 

“As you will,” he said, raising her cup to his mouth. 

Then they drank, and the ecstasy was sublime. It always was when the blood was good, spinning through her mind and her body with a pleasure that she had never known before being turned. But there was a companionship, a comfort that came with feeding beside another of her own kind that transcended anything she felt alone. When she came back to herself, she found that her fingers were tangled with Adam’s. She lifted her head and licked at the delicate flavor still staining her lips. 

She removed her hand from his and set the goblet aside. She lifted her hands to eye level and plucked at the edge of her glove. “May I?” she asked. 

Adam licked his own lips. He looked even younger with a gloss of blood darkening the corners of his mouth. “You may,” he said with great seriousness. 

Eve had heard that the queen wore gloves because they gave her the opportunity to remove them, drawing all eyes to her beautiful, white hands. Watching Adam’s eyes fix upon her hands as they were slowly bared, Eve thought that the queen was as clever as her supporters claimed. When her hands were uncovered, naked and vulnerable and powerful, Eve stretched her fingers toward Adam. She let them skim over the side of his face. He was clean shaven, and she caught a flash in her mind of his razor. He used an old one, lovingly maintained.

She let her thumb brush against his mouth, barely touching the red still lingering there. His lips pursed into a hint of a kiss, and Eve smiled. “You can call me Eve,” she said.

“Adam,” he told her.

She touched him some more.


End file.
